Louis had asked me out.
I honestly don’t think the smile left my face all day. Ms. Thomas was so embarrassed about the incident that she totally forgot about scolding me. She just awkwardly ripped the piece of paper off her heel and tried to shake it off as if nothing happened.
Louis and I managed to text for the remainder of the class without getting caught again. He’d been flirting with me all day, sending copious amounts of winky and smiley faces.
During the class we were able to make plans for our date. We’d collectively decided that it’d be tomorrow night, after he was done playing in the Nomads game. Once he was done playing he’d take me out.
And I was excited. I don’t remember the last time I was this excited for something. I mean, this wasn’t my first date, but it’d been quite some time since I’d had a date.
I was mostly excited to be with Louis. I was intrigued, to say the least. He refused to tell me where we were going, or what was going to happen. I’ve been bothering him since he asked me out, but he wouldn’t tell me because he wanted it to be a secret. He said he’d planned a secret date to make up for the earlier incident on Friday evening.
My heart fluttered every time I looked at him. When I saw the way he’d push his hair to the side my heart would beat rapidly within the confines of my chest. When I watched his facial expressions after receiving my text messages my mouth would always turn upwards in a smile.
I found myself enjoying the attention he was giving me. His small little glances in my direction, his cute messages, and his fingers impatiently tapping on his desk as he waited for my responses was enough to make my heart swell. I wasn’t used to getting attention from boys, but it was a nice change to feel wanted.
The rest of the day was a fury of text messages between Louis and myself. Other than that, it was uneventful and routine. I finished class, headed home, ate dinner, finished my homework and went to bed.
* * *
When the whistle blew the majority of the crowd stood to their feet. The game was over and the Nomads has won. For once our team was actually winning and I couldn’t help but think that maybe it had something to do with their new star player.
I watched Louis as he played the entire game. He was quick on his feet and he seemed to know moves that none of the other players were aware of. They’d gotten him a jersey; a large black number 17 was on his back now. Louis had managed to score four goals during the entire game, which was more than any one on either team had scored.
After several minutes of cheering I finally took it in me to descend the bleachers. I fixed my shirt, being sure to straighten it. I had decided to dress a little bit fancier for our date, but I didn’t want to overdo it. And so I’d worn a tight black skirt and a cute, flowery top.
When I was halfway down the bleachers Louis’ and my eyes found each other. He had already changed out of his sweaty soccer clothes, although he still had sweat soaking his hair. He was wearing colourful jeans again, along with small white sneakers. When I looked to his feet I noticed he wasn’t wearing socks . . . he never wore socks. He smiled adorably at me before slinging his soccer bag over his shoulder and shoving both of his hands into the front pocket on his jeans.
His eyes widened when I stepped onto the last bleacher, “wh–what . . . is something wrong?” I asked self-consciously. I fiddled awkwardly with my brown waves.
He reaches a hand out, offering it to me as I jump the final step. I’m now standing on the grass before him but he doesn’t release my hand. “No, of course not love. You . . .” he scratches the back of his neck with his other hand, “you look beautiful. I’m sorry, you’ve rendered me a little bit speechless.” He chuckles lightly before leaning in close and placing a soft kiss to my cheek.
I quickly inhale the scent of his freshly washed skin. He must’ve showered in the change rooms before he came out, as I can smell the fresh soap coating his skin, along with the familiar scent of his cologne.
I blush furiously. I’d only dressed up slightly and he was giving me compliments as if I was dressed and ready to attend The Oscars. “Thank you,” I murmur to him. He was still hovering close to me, but I didn’t want to lose his scent just yet. I wanted time to memorize it. I reach forward and embrace him in a small hug. “You played really good,” I whisper in his ear. He twitches a little when my breath fans over his skin.
It was hard to even utter a single word when his scent is overwhelming all of my senses. For a moment I wished he hadn’t showered so I was able to smell his sweaty body. I wanted to learn what he smelled like, sweat and all. I was tempted to reach forward and press my lips to his skin, but I refrained.
“Thank you, love . . . you ready to get out of here?” He asks, sweetly. With a nod of my head we began slowly walking towards the parking lot. He grabs my hand and intertwines our fingers with ease.